


The Eros of Magic

by lilithduvare



Series: Magic on Ice [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Anxiety, Chance Meetings, Discrimination, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them AU, Flirting, M/M, Magic, Magical Katsuki Yuuri, Meet-Cute, Muggle Victor Nikiforov, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:18:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9181243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithduvare/pseuds/lilithduvare
Summary: He was just an ordinary wizard with a great fondness for magical creatures. He had no serious goals in his life and he was content traveling the world to help with handling and finding new homes for the beings he adored with his whole heart. He did not have great expectations from the future.Until his long time idol, the great Viktor Nikiforov crashed into his life and turned everything upside down.Literally.Or the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them AU no one asked for.





	1. Chance Meetings

Getting through airport customs was always the easy part of traveling. The Madoushinai’s eyes were hazed with the veil of ignorance, thus never noticed that his bag was a bit different than it was expected. And that was fine. Yuuri had first hand experience just what cruel creatures the non-magical folk could be. How they singled out everything that was different from their norms. To either obsess over it to the point where privacy became a myth, or condemn it with hatred and fear hard enough to leave behind nothing but crumbling ashes. Then again, the Madoushi were just the same: narrow-minded and adverse to the slightest change.

Humans were just the same no matter what their sub-species were.

Dealing with the Madoushinai was easier, of course. Their willing blindness made it easy for any magical person to get around in their world without being noticed. Which was the very thing Yuuri needed. To be invisible to the naked eye without being obvious about it. His plain, unmemorable face certainly helped even in non-Asian countries. Maybe especially there. If he had a galleon for every time someone asked him if he was Chinese, basically identifying everyone with Asian looks as such, just because of his black hair and almond shaped eyes he wouldn’t need to worry about travel costs or anything money related, like rent and food, ever again.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, so he tried to get by as well as possible, doing as many assignments for different magical creature reserves as he could. Which was what was taking him to Sochi, Russia. And one of the reasons he was traveling the Madoushinai way.

He watched as the bland-faced German customs officer checked his passport, squinting at the less than flattering photo of Yuuri’s face as if he could tell it was fake just by looking at it. Which it was not. Being born to Madoushinai parents, into a Madoushinai family really, had taught Yuuri a thing or too about blending in with the non-magicals. At least on the surface.

He still remembered the first years of his primary education before the Japanese Ministry of Magic contacted them and told them that Yuuri was a wizard and as such eligible to attend Mahoutokoro, the most prestigious magical academy in the Far East. He was the weirdo with the large glasses, who was too small and too girly for practicing ballet. Never good enough. That did not change upon entering Mahoutokoro. Except he was the Madouto, automatically less and someone to look down on. A new word—the meaning staying the same.

At last, the officer handed back his passport and his bag, coat and shoes slid through the scanner, no trace of anything suspicious. Yuuri thanked the man quietly, then picked up his things and headed towards the waiting area after putting his shoes back on. He had an hour before his flight left for Russia and then six hours on a crowded airplane to Moscow, before he could breathe more easily, knowing that he was safely back on land.

He kept the Madoushinai latch firmly on his bag, not wanting any mishaps, counting back the minutes before he could take the carefully concealed sleeping draught disguised as a book in the Madoushinai partition of his bag. The brightly lit shops held no interest to him, but he bought some food at one of the fast food restaurants, the greasy saltiness of artificial flavor an guilty pleasure Yuuri liked to indulge in more than he should have. It didn’t make the food less delicious or addictive, the perfect stress relief when he was deprived of his mother’s amazing pork cutlet bowls.

In the end, the three hour flight to Moscow passed without incident, or if it didn’t, Yuuri was too out of it to notice. He wasn’t afraid of flying per say. He had the chance to fly on a hippogriff once when he visited a reserve somewhere in rural Oregon to study the creatures. Airplanes, however, made his skin crawl. Maybe it was all the human made metal and artificial state of the contraption that left too much chance for failure that made it difficult for him to sit through any length of flight while conscious. Maybe it was the close proximity of too many strangers. Maybe something else, he didn’t know or liked to think about it.

Looking around in the busy airport, he noted the lack of similar faces in the crowd with something akin to a pang of anxiety. It was familiar by now, he traveled too much not to get used to being an alien whenever he ventured outside the Far East. Then again he had been considered an alien all his life. Not that knowing it made it easier to process the feeling every time he left the safety of his home behind. No one spared him a single glance, no one noticed when he adjusted the cuffs of his coat or when he headed towards the exit only to disappear mid-step the second he was out the terminal and away from the ever-seeing eyes of the security cameras.

He needed to stop twice before he reached Sochi, his magic carrying him through the veil of reality and space like no Madoushinai vehicle ever could. It left him breathless but buzzing with exhilaration and residue magic. It was probably what everyone else felt after apparating and that was why he always received strange looks when he talked about it with his classmates back at Mahoutokoro after just learning how to apparate. During his travels, the Madoushi he met tended to care more about the creatures Yuuri delivered or promised to take away than magical theory, which, while a pity, was something Yuuri could talk hours and hours about, so he had no complaints.

Sochi was cold in December but had nothing on some of the northern parts of Russia Yuuri had visited in the past.  It was Christmas Eve Day back in Japan (and several other countries in the world), but in Russia it was just another regular day. Except where most of the city was littered with banners and flags advertising the World Figure Skating Championship that had been taking place from December 21 to 24. And resulted in Viktor Nikiforov’s fifth consecutive victory.

Yuuri was slightly disappointed he missed the chance to see it in person—it would have been great to cheer for Viktor from the stands even if it would have gone unnoticed—, but all the tickets had been sold out for the earlier flight to Moscow and taking a portkey had been out of question for obvious reasons. Then again, with all the excitement and anxiety he would have felt over seeing Viktor’s skating in person, being separated by only a scant few meters from him, his magic would have probably gone haywire in front of all those Madoushinai and no one needed that. Him the least.

So, in the end, it was for the best. He had two days to look around the city, check out the sights and the sea, or just generally unwind after his latest trip to Peru. He winced inwardly at his mother’s understanding smile that had tried to hide the disappointed look in her eyes when Yuuri told her that he would not spend the holidays back in Hasetsu during their Skype call three days ago. He was lucky to have his family support and accept him for who he was, but it rarely lessened the guilt he felt for abandoning them for weeks, months and sometimes even years.

He didn’t remember when the last time was he had spent more than a couple of days at home. Maybe after he graduated from Mahoutokoro and before Phichit gave him the call that changed his life and gave it purpose. That had been over six years ago now. Phichit had moved from Thailand to the States to study at a Madoushinai university there and to seek a career in figure skating, something Yuuri envied him for a little. Except he knew his own limits and how volatile his magic acted under duress.

He had been an average ballet dancer and an even less talented skater back when he was young, but still managed to win a few competitions somehow. Then with boarding at Mahoutokoro and the social pressure of being nothing spectacular at magic despite his professors’ expectations it became impossible for him to continue. Not after that time when the stress made his magic destroy the cooling system at the arena during one of the Junior Grand Prix competitions in Beijing when he was fourteen and still idealistic enough to think he could juggle figure skating and magical training.

At least it had been reported as a mechanical problem and no one learned about magic. But for Yuuri, it had been the perfect wake up call and enough to make him step down as a skater. That had been also the year he gained too much weight because of eating too many of his mother’s famous pork cutlet bowls during summer break. Weight he only started to lose after he graduated and started working with magical creatures.

Now, at 23, he was back in top form, maybe a little less lithe and wider in shoulders and arms, and thicker in thighs, but some of his companions required a lot of strength and served way better than gym equipment when it came to working out. The thought of his friends made Yuuri smile and he gently reached up to pat the breast pocket of his thick coat, huffing a little laugh when Ayako wriggled her small body against his hand but didn’t come out, the weather too cold for her tastes.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Yuuri murmured, quiet enough not to draw anyone’s attention on the busy street he was walking down. “You can enjoy the warmth of our hotel room soon enough.”

Ayako only wriggled some more in response before quieting down fully. She was his closest friend besides Vicchan and Phichit, always refusing to travel with her siblings in Yuuri’s bag, no matter where they went. Vicchan, on the other hand, couldn’t be let out of Yuuri’s bag, not even under glamor. The crafty little pest was way too taken by anything shiny and luxurious to be left to his own devices. Which was the main reason Yuuri always kept the Madoushinai latch on his bag whenever he left his place. Vicchan was just too much trouble for his own good. He was lucky Yuuri loved him too much to let anyone else have him. Even a reserve.

Too deep in thought, he almost walked past his hotel, the Cyrillic letters only understandable because of a spell he spent ages on fabricating after the hundredth time he had gotten lost in one foreign city or another. It was a handy little glamor-like spell activated by a series of runes etched into the frame of Yuuri’s glasses. He was sure there were many better ways to understand other languages in written form, better spells and even better tools, but he never got the chance to check and he was just fine with his own little trick.

The lobby in the small hotel was deserted when he entered through the heavy spinning doors. The interior looked old and like it had seen better days but was far from the worst place Yuuri had stayed before. The receptionist was nice and her English just as heavily accented as Yuuri’s, which made navigating through the check-in process… interesting. Fortunately, Yuuri had enough experience in talking to people whose English was just as bad as his, so it didn’t take more than about twenty minutes to get through the door of his room and sit down on his bed with a tired sigh.

His eyes were burning and he was ready to keel over, jet lag already hitting him hard, but he knew it was too early to go to sleep and he also needed to eat something, if the way his stomach was complaining was anything to go by. He blinked owlishly down at his lap, trying to will his legs to move. It wasn’t going well. But he really needed food not only to fuel his weary body but also to make replenishing his magical core faster.

If only he wasn’t so tired…

It was an accident, really. One second he was sitting with his head bowed over his knees, the next he was lying on his side, eyes closed and bag knocked over, barely conscious. Then an ominous clicking sound filled the silence of the room, causing Yuuri’s eyes to snap open.

No.

He was too slow, his reflexes too sluggish from exhaustion, and Vicchan was out of the bag before he could do anything more than fumble for the bag. Yuuri groaned in despair and lunged for the little bastard, but Vicchan was crafty and out the window in a heartbeat, leaving the cool, salty air waft into Yuuri’s face.

The only thing that reassured Yuuri that not everything was lost was that Vicchan was wearing the collar Yuuri had put on him after his last successful attempt at giving Yuuri the slip. The collar was a custom made thing, etched with runes that made tracking Vicchan down easier and also concealed his real form in front of the Madoushinai. Thank the gods for small mercies. That time the sneaky rascal escaped the bag in Malta was bad enough. Yuuri didn’t needed another fine from the authorities. Especially not the Russian ones who had the reputation to be uncommonly strict.

Grabbing his bag in a hurry, he apparated after Vicchan, following the magical trail of the niffler’s collar, only stumbling a little as he landed in an alley next to his hotel. His feet were running before he could make sense of his surroundings fully, the pull drawing him after Vicchan like a supernaturally strong magnet. Catching sight of him, however, was harder than expected, the crowd in the main street way too large in the quickly approaching dusk for easy access.

Yuuri knew that calling after Vicchan would only fuel his companion’s need to escape as fast as possible and pulling his wand out was out of question. Which left him with no options besides running on magical instinct and hoping to catch up to the little brat before he stole something that would get them into trouble. He didn’t have high hopes for Vicchan not stealing anything, he knew the niffler too well for that. But breaking into a jewelry shop, like he had in New York when he was barely more than a hatchling, would be bad. Much worse than it had been in the States.

He caught sight of Vicchan just as the niffler got a hold of some poor woman’s shiny watch, causing Yuuri to groan and pick up his speed. His lungs were burning from the exertion, telling him that they had been running for longer and farther than he expected. Sure, he was in peak form but running at full speed for kilometers took a lot out of him, and he knew that he had limited time before Vicchan would disappear again and he would need to find a less crowded area to apparate again. Which, in his exhausted state would be too risky.

Fortunately, he got his chance to tackle his wayward friend a minute later when Vicchan caught sight of something shiny in a tall, silver haired man’s hand and geared up to jump and steal it, his speed halting enough for Yuuri to make his own jump. And land on something soft yet hard with a violently trashing niffler caught between them. Yuuri raised his head gingerly, even as his fingers twined into Vicchan’s collar on instinct to prevent him from escaping again, and his gaze met with two pools of crystalline blue eyes, wide with apparent shock.

_‘This can't be happening.’_

 

 


	2. An Accidental Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor's first meeting ends in an explosion of angry Russian kitten, but their story is only about to start. 
> 
> With the help of two accidentally swapped bags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good gods, guys! I'm completely floored by your response to this little story! Thank you so much for all the amazing comments and the crazy amount of kudos! I hope you will enjoy the new chapter too, and feel free to join me on [tumblr](http://yuurinomahouteki.tumblr.com) where I reblog a lot of yoi content and snippets of this story. <3

Yuuri scrambled back, pulling Vicchan with him. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him, that his dream about this meeting would turn into a nightmare. Yet here he was crouched on a crowded Russian street with a struggling niffler disguised as a poodle in his grasp and Viktor Nikiforov flattened on the cold concrete in front of him. Yuuri’s entire body was shaking either from exhaustion or the sudden bout of adrenaline fueled nerves or most probably both, but he could do nothing besides gaping at Viktor, who was staring back with his own lips parted as well.

Yuuri expected many things. He expected curses and yelling, maybe even threats of lawsuits. It would have been reasonable, after all, he was a nobody while Viktor was Viktor. A living legend. What he didn’t expect was endless seconds of silence and wide, clear blue eyes looking at him from under a silky silver fringe of hair, mesmerizing enough for Yuuri to be unable to look away. Or stammer out the apology burning his tongue. This was really a nightmare.

“I…” he started, voice breaking under the stress.

Viktor blinked slowly, then his gaze fell to Yuuri’s lap, causing Yuuri’s face to heat up. Until he realized what Viktor was looking at, which caused all blood to leave his face, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. He had half the mind to disapparate, not caring about the possibility of splinching himself, but before he could do anything crazy, or crazier than tackling Viktor Nikiforov to the ground, Viktor’s face broke out in a bright smile and took Yuuri’s breath away.

“Oh! What a cute poodle!” he said, hands reaching out to touch. “I have one at home as well! His name is Makkachin, although he is a bit larger… Maybe yours is still a pup? Yes, that has to be it. They look all young and sweet. Are they a boy or girl? Which ever they are, they are absolutely adorable if naughty. So some obedience training wouldn’t go amiss.”

Yuuri looked down at Vicchan, knowing fully well that he looked like Viktor’s dog to the Madoushinai even if the button eyes glaring up at him belonged to an unruly niffler with an unhealthy love for shiny things. He petted the soft dark gray fur as a fully undeserved offer of reassurance to his friend, using Vicchan to ground himself. At least enough to properly apologize for the problems he caused Viktor.

“I’m sorry,” he gritted out, his tone far more distant than he wanted to. “V— He is still young and easily excited.”

“It’s quite all right! I remember how playful Makkachin was when he was youn—”

A harsh voice cut Viktor off, snarling something at him in Russian that Yuuri didn’t understand. Probably couldn’t even if he spoke the language or had the time to activate the runes tattooed behind his ears that allowed him to understand any foreign language. He hadn’t managed to create a corresponding rune for speaking yet, but he had been working on it in his spare time and had some promising results. As he couldn’t even do as much as activate his already developed rune, he was forced to listen to a young blond boy yell at Viktor in clipped, angry Russian, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It was jarring and shocking, but he was already forgotten by both Viktor and the small crowd gathered around them, the boy creating enough of a spectacle for Yuuri to grab his bag and slip away unnoticed. His repeated apology going unheard.

“See, this is what happens when you can’t control yourself,” he scolded Vicchan on their way back to his hotel. “To think that the first time I meet Viktor Nikiforov had to happen like this. I blame you.”

Vicchan wiggled his body and let out an annoyed huff, his clawed paws scrambling at Yuuri’s heavy winter coat. Obviously, he couldn’t care less that he ruined Yuuri’s first meeting with his idol. Or that he lead Yuuri on a wild goose chase to the Bolshoy Ice Dome without him realizing it. Well, too bad. Because Yuuri cared a lot. And thanks to Vicchan Viktor now would always remember him like the crazy Asian guy with the dumb poodle. Who tackled people to the ground. And couldn’t string together two coherent words. If he even remembered Yuuri by the end of the night that is.

Which he probably wouldn’t. After all, Yuuri was just a fan. With a stupid poodle. That was actually a kleptomaniac magical creature.

Just great.

And if it wasn’t enough, they were at least half an hour away from the hotel. Yuuri groaned tiredly, sending a half-hearted glare at a finally calmed down Vicchan who just blinked up at him with his coal-like eyes. Checking his pockets was futile of course. Even if he managed to catch a taxi somehow, his funds were pathetically low now that he paid for the hotel, upfront to avoid spending too much without realizing, and he still needed to eat. Which meant walking back to the hotel. In the fast approaching Russian winter night.

Yuuri could only repeat himself:

Just great.

The only upside was that he got the chance to look around a little and breath in the clean salty air of the Black Sea from up close. They really did an amazing job of turning the beach and its area into a true gem for the Winter Olympics two years previous. Yuuri knew he had to come back when he was more aware of his surroundings to enjoy the city’s offerings fully. Still, he can see the dichotomy of the city with its futuristic skyscrapers, obscuring the sky and towering over the Sochi with millions of ever watchful eyes, and old, historic buildings full of tales waiting for someone to uncover them. The twilight air was crisp and Yuuri wished he could cast a quick warming charm under his coat but he was too drained and also surrounded by Madoushinai whose attention was already drawn by Vicchan. He really should have just gone home.

In the end, it took nearly an hour to get back to the hotel because people kept approaching him about his cute dog, something Vicchan noticed immediately. He started wiggling in Yuuri’s grasp in hope to lure more potential preys in to rob, Yuuri’s warning glare going ignored. The only positive side of the onslaught of well-meaning dog lovers was that Vicchan was held tight in Yuuri’s arms and couldn’t go in for stealing anything in spite of his best efforts. And that by the time they found their way back to the hotel Vicchan was out cold from the crash of excitement, making it easier for Yuuri to undress and reach for the Madoshinai latch on his bag he once again deposited on the bed.

Except it wasn’t there.

Heart rate skyrocketing, Yuuri yanked the bag onto his lap staring at its side as if that would be enough to make the latch materialize on the soft leather adorned with light initials and flowers… Adorned with initials and flowers?!

No. No. No. No.

This couldn’t be happening. 

Horror clawed its way into his lungs, tearing into his ability to breathe. The bag. It wasn’t his. For the mercy of gods, it wasn’t his. Not that the realization alone was enough proof, of course. Yuuri had to make sure he wasn’t imagining things despite the glaring evidence laid out before him. So he yanked the bag open and pushed both hands in, part of him still hoping that he would find nothing but space inside.

Instead, his hands touched soft fabric and something hard, shoe-like with something thin attached to the underside—a skate. A pair of skates. Yuuri felt like reality was slipping away from him, because there was just no chance, even with his horrible luck, that he was not asleep, trapped in a nightmare. How could it be when he had Viktor Nikiforov’s bag full of his costumes and skates on his bed? And even worse, Viktor Nikiforov had _his_ bag full of magical creatures!

Disaster was awaiting him, Yuuri knew this, yet he just couldn’t find it in himself to get up and start hunting Viktor down. He was just bone tired and the sizzling panic choking him simply drained all his already depleted energy. It wasn’t like Viktor could cause much damage with the Madoushinai latch on. The latch only worked with magic, something Viktor didn’t have. Without it, the bag was only a regular thing, a little battered but trusty, filled with Yuuri’s clothes. Shirts, underwear, his dragon hide pants and boots that might look slightly eccentric but not at all incriminating. As for his work robes, well, scientists wore similar all the time. 

So, really, what was the worst that could happen?

If Yuuri still knew anything about ice skating competition schedules it was that every big event ended with a party. Which usually meant socializing and drinking for adults. Not that he had ever been privy to any of these parties. But he heard some stories. What mattered in the current case though was that Viktor would probably stay the night. And it wasn’t like he would probably open the bag tonight. After all, he had a party to get ready and people to make nice with. Equipment bags had to be secondary, meaning that Yuuri could rest for a while. Something he needed desperately if the way he couldn’t even open his eyes or find the necessary nerves in his head to feel anything over misplacing his bag that was hiding grave dangers for most magical people let alone a Madoushinai.

His thoughts got away from him, bringing up the mental image of Viktor curled around Vicchan on the bed next to him just a lazy touch away from Yuuri. Maybe his hand even reached out, Yuuri couldn’t be sure, too far gone to care about the difference between dreams and reality. And who knows? Maybe waking up would bring the knowledge that the entire afternoon had been nothing but a fever dream brought on by overexerting his magic.

* * *

Being accosted about the accident that afternoon got old within two minutes. Viktor saw himself as a patient man with a kind if slightly charred heart, living to please his audience, but even he had his limits. And getting question after question about nothing but that poor stranger with the sweetest brown eyes and the naughty poodle pup had been severely testing said limits. Yes, he thought it was really an accident. No, he did know nothing about the man or where he was from. No, he doubted he would ever see him again. On top of it all, Yuri was sulking and sticking to Viktor’s side all night instead of mingling with kids his age, his dark cloud of teenage angst only pushing Viktor deeper into his own spiral of irritation. And it only got worse when Yakov got on his case for being nice with strangers who could potentially cause him grievous harm.

Viktor understood, really.  He was famous, a star, a living legend or whatever fancy title they used to describe him nowadays. And people were not always kind. He knew this. He had had his fair share of obsessed stalkers to prove it. It did not mean he had to treat anyone who wanted to take a picture with him or get his autograph like a leper. Those people loved what he did and Viktor did what he could to show his gratefulness for their support. Even when it got tiresome at times. Not to mention getting told off by a fifteen-year-old was more than a little irritating. So, understandably, by the time Viktor locked the door of his hotel room—after depositing a wilting (and maybe a little tipsy) Yuri in his own room because going against Yakov’s instructions always had its repercussions whether it earned him a victory or not—he wanted nothing but to fall into his bed and sleep until his alarm went off in… a little less then five hours.

Leaning his back against the door, his gaze fell on his gear bag sitting next to the desk where he left it, his gold medal carelessly draped across it. Perhaps, he was an ungrateful asshole for not treasuring the symbol of his absolute success more, or at all. If his fans saw how he treated his medals and awards they would be horrified for sure—the plain shoe box in the back of his closet was definitely no way to store important memorabilia. Except, none of those medals meant anything anymore. They felt like chains shackling him to an existence that sucked him dry and then cast him away, forgotten and meaningless.

He knew that his date of expiration was fast approaching. He was already too old if one could believe some of the more vitriolic bloggers and critics. The living legend. An artifact good enough for exhibits but too old to touch or to be of any use in action. It certainly had a foreboding ring to it despite not being wrong.

Because the truth was Viktor Nikiforov was singing the last song of a phoenix ready to give up on its endless life. He couldn’t find it in himself to reborn from his scorching ashes again, not when his ashes were cold and infertile. He was tired and had no inspiration to push on, to fight against the course of time. Talent-wise he could do it again, he knew this. He had at least another year in him before Yuri and his generation of young skaters could catch up and conquer the figure skating world. He just did not care.

The gold medal thrown over his bag was more than enough proof of that on its own.

Viktor’s brows pulled close on their own, something niggling in the back of his mind. Something wasn’t right with the scene before him. The desk had been there when he first entered the room four days ago even if the slight clutter of schedules and empty water bottles hadn’t been, so it couldn’t be it. The medal, while slightly slipped closer to the floor, was obviously not the cause of his sense of wrong. And his bag was where he left it, undisturbed—

His train of thought came to a sudden halt even as his feet started walking towards the bag, eyes widening. It wasn’t his bag. It was similar, yes, made of soft brown leather, but it was worn and had none of the brand marks Viktor’s bag was decorated with. Which could only mean that it belonged to the fan with the pretty eyes and naughty poodle. Whose name Viktor never managed to catch because Yuri had had to butt in.

He crouched down in front of the bag with the faint hope that the bag had a name tag or anything to help identifying its owner, but aside from a weird and absolutely useless silver latch decoration on its side there was nothing. Tilting his head, he reached out in spite of a little voice in his head telling him he should be careful because who knew what the bag could hide, heart pounding in his chest. The tiniest of jolts ran through his finger when it touched the odd lock under the ribbon of his gold medal, the silky fabric sliding over the back of his hands. The sensation made him stop for a moment, but in the end he wrote it off as his nerves playing games with him and after a few tries managed to open the bag.

It did not explode.

A fortunate outcome, really. For one, he was too young to die and being blown to pieces was really not the way he wanted to go. For another, he could already hear Yuri’s raging parting speech where he told all the gathered masses how he had told Viktor a million times not to be a naive dumbass. Something he really didn’t want. Not that Yakov would be any better. Or any of the people he knew. Maybe he should write a will? And make forbidding everyone from giving a speech at his funeral. Also pass Makkachin’s care over to Chris… or maybe that fan with the poodle. He at least would know what to do with poor Makkachin.

Except he had no idea who the man was. Despite having his bag shaking from side to side in front of him.

What.

But no, he wasn’t imagining things. The bag was really shaking. Viktor stared at it, unblinking, before he started scooting backwards for all the good it would do him if there was really some freaky bomb hidden in there. He was already back at the door, hands blindly clawing for the lock and the handle, when the shaking suddenly ceased. Viktor held his breath on instinct, his gaze never leaving the bag even as he expected the worst.

What he got was a small green twig with two healthy leaves on top crawling out of the open bag, followed by an explosion of color that was too fast for him to really figure out what it was before he smashed through the window and left the room in a flash of scales and feathers. It left behind the green twig… thing turning around its axis curiously on the carpet and Viktor, choking on shock and a total lack of comprehension of had just happened.

Maybe someone slipped something into his champagne at the party?


	3. Magical Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you have friends who needs enemies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I'm a bit behind because my novel required my attention (10 chapter to go!) and adulting is hard. Still, I hope you will like the new chapter. We're getting closer and closer for Viktor and Yuuri to meet again and the plot to finally kick off (I can't wait!).
> 
> Disclaimer: My Russian and Thai are non-existent so if I chose the wrong expressions provided by glosbe, then feel free to tell me. I also hope none of the characters are horrible OOC.
> 
> This chapter, like all the others are unbetaed, so feel to point out any typos, even though I'll plan to come back once the whole story is done to do an edit.
> 
> Also for possible trigger warnings check the end notes.

 

Viktor closed his eyes, counting to ten slowly, expecting to have his room empty when he reopened them. With his bag sitting by the desk. With the window intact. And with no weird twig creature staring at him from the floor. Instead, what he got was a heavy dose of reality from an icy waft of wind rushing in through his broken window and something small touching the hem of his trousers. Viktor yelped—he would forever deny that the sound that tore itself free from his throat was a scream—and did his best to climb through the closed door. His eyes snapped open immediately and were met with the tiny weird twig creature climbing up is trousers.

“Stop,” he gasped, except the thing obviously did not understand Russian, because it kept climbing and Viktor was too afraid to do anything but watch it frozen in place in case the thing was venomous and attacked when spooked.

But the twig creature—and how that could be a thing, really?—did not attack or did anything really besides climbing up into Viktor’s suit jacket pocket and blinked up at him with small, dark eyes that seemed more amused then anything. It chirped at him, soft and melodic, and as his body slowly started to easy up with the lack of imminent threat, Viktor’s brain finally noticed that the creature was actually sort of adorable.

“Hello,” he tried speaking again, this time in English. The creature blinked once then chirped back at him, a short lilting trill that Viktor decided to take it as a greeting. It helped to sooth his frayed nerves a little bit further and he even tried for a small smile, friendly if somewhat shaky. The creature’s small mouth stretched in return. “So, you… have a name? I mean, you live in that bag over there, so you probably have one.”

The creature trilled again, its arms waving around, completely incomprehensible. Still, it was so endearing that Viktor felt his muscles unlock completely and he sagged against the door, relieved. He had so many questions, but no way to find answers unless the creature was only faking not speaking human languages. At least it seemed to be understanding him. Or pretended to anyway. Or was it simply mimicking Viktor? He had no idea.

Driven by a sudden idea he lifted one of his hands slowly, his index finger outstretched, and let it over in front of the creature’s face, waiting for its reaction. It sort of tilted to the side, as if it was trying to cock his head but without joints and a visible neck it was impossible, before it leaned forward and butted against the pad of Viktor’s finger. The leaves on the top of his head were soft and yielding, and apparently sensitive because it let out a series of short trills and leaned even closer.

“You’re really cute, you know,” he murmured, petting the creature’s head. “Wish I knew what to call you.”

The creature hummed noncommittally, its eyes closed in bliss. Only to shrink back violently the next second when the door behind Viktor rattled like an earthquake was wrangling it. Viktor yelped again, his breath catching. The door rattled again and then Yuri’s angry voice filtered through the polished wood.

“Viktor!” he snarled. “What the hell are you doing, screaming bloody murder in the dead of the night?!”

“I’m fine!” Viktor called back, looking down at the creature then at the currently calm back a few feet away. He knew that letting Yuri inside would be a bad idea. The boy was violent and rash, usually acting and speaking before thinking. To let him see something so… magical, Viktor couldn’t risk it. Then again, if he did then maybe Yuri could confirm that he hadn’t slipped into an exhaustion and alcohol induced hallucination. 

“You shrieked like a fucking girl!”

“Mila would take offense to that.” 

Yuri’s growl was menacing. “Let me in!”

“Kids should be asleep this late.”

“I fucking was! Then you had to wake even the dead and now I’m not!” The little pest went as far as kicking the door, hard, nearly breaking the lock.

“Give it another try and I’m sure Yakov will be happy to issue your punishment,” Viktor threatened to no avail.

“Please, Yakov would blame you all the way, idiot. Now, let me in, I’m sick and tired is yelling through your door like a fool.”

Taking a deep breath, Viktor crawled forward and locked the bag’s latch with a soft click. The creature trilled at him in approval, or some sort of emotion. Then Viktor’s gaze strayed to the broken window and he leapt to his feet yanking the curtains closed for good measure, not that it did anything against the wind. Would he need to sleep in another room tonight?

“You need to hide, okay?” he whispered, gently pushing the creature’s body down, showing it how to hide in his pocket, breathing more easily when the creature did as he showed it.

He looked around in the room one more time, taking in every detail that could seem as incriminating and hoping that Yuri was too tired and a illuminated to notice anything. He put on his widest grin and opened the door wide only to receive a kick in the shin because Yuri had been going for another vicious kick at the door. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he raised an eyebrow at Yuri’s scowl, trying for nonchalant. 

“Your growth will be stunted if you don’t get enough sleep because you worry about me too much,” he managed to get out, ignoring the strain in his voice. Yuri’s scowl only darkened.

“Who is worried, you asshole.” He barged in without a second glance at Viktor and threw himself onto the bed. “So what? Seen a spider?”

“I…” Viktor started but trailed off when he felt movement in his chest pocket. His eyes shot to it immediately and he wanted to bury his face in his hands when he saw that the twig creature peek its head out of his pocket. 

Of course, Yuri’s attention was immediately drawn to it. How couldn’t it be when he had been watching Viktor, looking for any hint of every one of Victor’s secrets? It gave Viktor the perfect view of the way his green eyes grew round like saucers and his jaw dropped. 

“W-what the fuck is that, Viktor?!” he exclaimed, pointing at the creature.

Viktor scratches his head and laughs, painfully awkward to stall for some time. It’s better than allowing his firs instinct to get the better of him and tell Yuri to piss off and stop sticking his nose into other people’s business. Usually it was easy to control his anger, to suppress the desire to yell, scream, tear into the ones who so carelessly demanded answers from him and pushed his buttons. But the last few days—make that the past few years—had been hard on him and the roller coaster of the last hour in itself had been enough to put him on edge. So he clung to his thinly stretched smile and made sure he was careful when he lifted the creature out of his pocket.

“I have no idea, but it’s cute, huh?” he says, crinkling his eyes for good measure.

“That’s a moving twig! What’s it a robot you got from a fan or what?”

“Don’t be rude, Yuri. You’ll hurt its feelings.” He looked down and the creature blinked up at him, still not understanding anything they said.

“You’re insane. This thing… This is some weird as hell stuff and I’m telling Yakov,” Yuri growled, crossing his thin arms in front of his small chest. He was still a child and it had never been more obvious than at that moment. His tough act was falling short, his face too pale and his eyes wide with shocked fear to be believable.Viktor stepped closer, mischief nudging his hand towards Yuri who scooted back on the bed in response, all but hissing like a spooked cat. “Take it away from me!”

“Now, now, Yurachka, look at this cute thing, it’s really friendly.” For good measure he petted the creature’s little leaves, his smile turning real for a second when it butted its head against his finger.

“No, that thing is freaky. And you should get rid of it before it grows into a giant monster and eats you in your sleep.”

“Are you afraid of such an innocent little creature?” Viktor taunted, ruffling Yuri’s hair with his free hand. Then promptly snatched it away when Yuri snarled at him and tried to bite his hand. “You worry too much, Yuri. Go back to your room and sleep. The little one and I will be fine.”

“Whatever. See if I care when that thing eats you,” Yuri sniped, eying the creature distrustfully, but he did not move to leave the room. It was almost endearing how stubbronly protective the boy was. Not that Yuri would ever admit it. The creature in Viktor’s palm trilled and waved its tiny arms, making Viktor pet it again.

“See, completely harmless,” just as he said it, another flurry of wind cut into the room causing him to shiver and the creature to clamp down on his thumb with its small mouth full of needle sharp teeth. He gasped in pain, staring down at the small wound as it welled up with blood, the creature already half-way up his jacket sleeve. Yuri, in turn, was rolling on Viktor’s bed, laughing, making Viktor want to throttle him. But it also made him want to smile, because it was so rare to see Yuri unguarded enough to let go of his anger.

“You deserved that for leaving your window open,” Yuri said, still smirking at Viktor’s bleeding.

“I was warm.”

“Well, I’m not and I don’t care how much warmer it is than in St. Petersburg. Close the window already.” 

“If you don’t like the temperature in my room go back to yours.”

“Hmph. Go and clean your mortal wound.”

“It’s just a scratch.”

“The way you shrieked suggested otherwise.”

Viktor decided not to deem that with an answer and went to the en suite bathroom to wash away the blood and see if the wound needed more serious treatment, mentally preparing for a long, long night with Yuri refusing to leave. The little pest could be too persistent for his own good. Even if deep down it felt good to have someone look at him with something else than hero worship.

 

Xxx___xxx

 

Yuuri woke up with a jolt, disoriented and with a mouthful of silky fur between his lips. He sat up slowly, not understanding what had waken him up in the middle of the night until the tracking charm connecting him to the nest of pixies in his bag flared up again, the burn clearing his foggy brain enough to remember what had happened. Eyes growing wide, he looked around in his tiny room, blanching when everything came back to him in lightning speed flashes, dread settling heavily in is stomach. 

The pixie nest was empty. 

His fingers found their ways into his hair, grasping and tugging on the strands in agitation. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep. How could he allow his bag to remain at a Madoushinai? Even if that Madoushinai was his long-time idol? And now a nest of pixies were missing because Yuuri had been a lazy idiot who not only mixed up his bag with someone but also forgot to check the latch before he left on his hunt for Vicchan. What was even worse, the pixies themselves did not have tracking charms on them, so finding them was going to be a royal pain.

Breathing labored, he tried to think around the buzzing static filling his mind. Giving up control to his anxiety would help no one, but it was hard not to, when he just risked not only the exposure of magic but also his friends’ safety. He was lucky only the pixies had been brave enough to escape their home, except if they had, it meant that Viktor Nikiforov probably had seen them. That brought on another wave of suffocating panic, closing Yuuri’s throat until he found it hard to breath, forcing him to gasp through the choking sensation, the sound loud enough to wake Vicchan up.

His friend immediately jumped into Yuuri’s lap, whining and butting his head against his chin, nuzzling the sensitive skin there. Yuuri tried to lift his hand to pet him, but the tremors wracking his entire body made it hard to find his coordination. Vicchan whined again, nuzzling his head harder, the sensation ticklish enough to draw a choked off giggle from Yuuri and offering him a slight reprieve from the horrific voices screaming in his head, their voices blurring into one giant ball of self-hatred and terror. 

Distantly, he knew that he needed to calm down before he passed out. He did not have time for this and hated how his brain always ganged up with his body against him. He could not afford to lose time again. Yes, he needed to focus. Find a point that could hold his attention and not let it go. He concentrated on Vicchan’s soft fur under his fingertips, feeling the silky hairs brushing against his skin, tickling the nerves and anchoring him to the present. It’s a connection that was shaky at best, but Yuuri clung to it like a lifeline, forcing his lungs to work with him.

He needed to be calm to find the pixies. If nothing else, he could be grateful that the Aurors hadn’t come for him yet. The punishment for unlawfully sharing the secret of magic with a Madoushinai was life sentence in one of the magical prisons, decided by the International Confederation of Wizards in international cases. Knowing Yuuri’s luck he would be sent to Pank Kwuang to be surrounded by the swooping darkness and the most cruel criminals in Asia.

He had to swallow around the lump in his throat at that thought. No, he had to concentrate. He wouldn’t go to prison. He would find his bag and his pixies and then deliver the dragon egg to the reserve before going home and staying put for a few weeks at least. Good, that was what he was going to do… once his limbs started to tremble and he could draw more then half of a real breath. 

“Oh, Gods,” he wheezed, coughing around the words. His brain was still buzzing…

It took him longer then it should have to realize that the furious ants in his head had nothing to do with the incessant buzzing. It was coming from his coat hanging on the coat hanger by the door. 

It was his phone.

He was not proud of the fact that it took Stammi Vicino to mournfully sing Non Te Ne Andare twice and then go silent before he managed to reach his coat, his legs unsteady like a newborn foal’s. He was pathetic, really. It was a small mercy that he did not pass out this time. Or threw up for that matter. Vicchan snuffled against his neck, the wet coolness another point of tether to reality. 

“Phichit,” her murmured, a faint smile curling his lips. He managed to hit the video call icon next to Phichit’s picture on the second try and it meant the world that he could lean his back against the wall behind him, the cool surface supporting his weight.

“Yuuri, _zdravstvujte_ ,” Phichit greeted in heavily accented Russian in his usual perky tone. He was smiling wide until he got a better look at Yuuri’s heavily shaded image projected onto his own screen.

“Phichit, _àroon sàwàt_ ,” Yuuri said back, ridiculously proud that he managed to push it out without stuttering. “Or _s̄āyạṇh̄̒ s̄wạs̄di̒_ , i-if you are in Detroit.”

“Are you okay, Yuuri?” 

“Y-yes…” He cleared his throat and pulled Vicchan even closer. “Yes, of course. Your call just woke me up.”

“Oh, I forgot the time difference, sorry! But I couldn’t not call you! It’s all over Twitter!”

“What…” that was all he managed to say before Vicchan decided to greet Phichit too, crawling in front of Yuuri.

“Vicchan, hey!” Phichit giggled. “You are hot news, too, you know! The internet loves you!”

Yuuri’s legs picked that moment to slide out from under him, his butt meeting the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. Fortunately, Vicchan was still doing a great job at hiding him from the camera’s view, chirping at Phichit happily, who was laughing and showering the niffler with compliments about his cuteness. 

“What do you mean the internet loves him?” Yuuri finally found the strength to ask. Anxiety attacks always left him drained both emotionally and physically.

“Oh Yuri, someone recorded your… meeting with Viktor Nikiforov yesterday and put it on the internet.” Yuuri practically tore Vicchan away from his phone to stare at a sheepishly grinning Phichit. “It’s not that bad!”

“You… You are lying.”

“No, of course not.” Except he really was. While Yuuri’s phone’s camera wasn’t the best for video chatting in low light, it had a gorgeous display and showed Phichit’s uneasy expression clearly. “I mean people are trying to figure out who you are, but you are not a public figure and the last picture taken of you had been just before your last competition and you are obviously not thirteen anymore—”

“It’s okay, Phichit,” Yuuri said, the need to calm his friend down before he got triggered by Phichit’s worry overriding the mounting need to hide in his bag never come out again. Except his bag was still in Viktor Nikiforov’s hands and apparently had been opened by the man. Gods, what could he have thought when he saw all the pixies? And what if they attacked him?

“Yuuri?”

“It’s…” He stopped. Getting Phichit involved, especially over the internet, would be a stupid move. Phichit loved his career and living among the Madoushinai even if he had been the one who initially helped Yuuri get his first job. “It’s nothing, really, just the jet lag making me dizzy. I was never good with flying.”

“If you’re sure…” Phichit sounded like he didn’t believe Yuuri any more than Yuuri had believed him, but there was no way Yuuri would drag his old friend into the mess he was in. Not when it was all on him. And could potentially land him in prison for the rest of his life.

“I’m sure.” At least that was true. To a degree. “Are the fans angry?” he asked, trying to change the topic, only just stopping himself from mirroring the grimace that appeared on Phichit’s face.

“Some. But it really isn’t that bad. A lot of people on Tumblr are already shipping you two and they call you the Poodle boy.”

“Shipping…”

“It’s when—”

“As much as I try to avoid the more involved side of fandom, I know what shipping means. Sorry,” he added after realizing that he was being rude to Phichit. “I guess, I’m lucky no one found out who I am.”

He let his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes. He only hoped that his parents or Minako-sensei hadn’t seen the video and who knows what else, then again if they had, there would have been phone calls and messages already. He was beyond tired and it seemed like things were getting worse with each passing minutes.

“Has…” ‘Has Viktor said anything?’ he wanted to ask, but didn’t have the courage.

“Yuuri, it’s not your fault.” Phichit sounded sincere and kind. Supportive, like always. But this time it was Yuuri’s fault. “Give it a couple of days and people will forget about it.”

“Yes. Yes, you’re right,” Yuuri agreed, mouth twisting. “Is it okay if I let you go now? I feel like I need some more sleep.”

“Yuuri… Yes, of course.” Whatever Phichit wanted to say at first, he changed his mind. Probably for the best. “Give me a call when you have some free time, yes?”

“Sure. And I’ll write when I’m done with the job here.”

“Great! Take care and don’t worry too much.”

“I’ll try. Take care.” Yuuri ended the call and closed his eyes, phone slipping into his lap where it was snatched up a second later by Vicchan, the device disappearing into the deceptively small pouch on his round belly. Great. Getting it back now would be a pain. “You’re incorrigible,” he muttered and Vicchan chirped smugly, butting his head against Yuuri’s chin. “I guess we’re lucky it happened in the middle of winter in Russia, you know. Pixies hate the cold.”

Vicchan just stared up at him, slim little tongue lolling out. Yuuri needed to get him something to drink and eat before tracking Viktor and his bag down. And if the way his stomach growled was any indication, maybe he needed to eat something, too. Good. He already made some plans. Plans were good. They meant focus and purpose for his mind. He still had the money he had in his pocket and it should be enough for some food and a bottle of water he could share with Vicchan. 

He could do this. 

He needed to do this.

With that single-minded mantra on repeat in his head, Yuuri pushed himself onto his weak legs and staggered over to the bag, lying forgotten on its side next to the bed where it had fallen while Yuuri had been asleep. Vicchan was on his heels, which allowed Yuuri to crouch down and scoop him up, conjuring a leash he fastened to his wrist, so the crafty niffler wouldn’t be able to get away even if Yuuri lost his grip on him. Putting on his coat was tricky, but he couldn’t risk letting Vicchan escape again, not when he was exhausted as he was. Not when apparating was out of question, which meant that he had to find Viktor on foot and hope that the Madoushinai was fine.

He took another sweeping glance around the empty room, checking for any sign of something magical or amiss. Finding nothing, he took a deep breath and opened the door. It was time he manned up and faced the consequences of his mistakes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning: anxiety attack.
> 
> Now, I know everyone experiences anxiety differently. From what I've seen in the anime, Yuuri's own anxiety is strong but he never had an attack to the extent I wrote about here (I hope I gave it justice, because I tried to portray how one of my worst attacks went down but also amplify it because Yuuri's own anxiety stems from a different root than mine does. And his situation is also more than a little more dire than the triggering events for my attacks have ever been. 
> 
> Thank you for your support it really means the world to me. Your kind words and kudos are balm to my soul and I can't thank you enough. Once again if you want to join me on tumblr, I'm [yuurinomahouteki](http://yuurinomahouteki.tumblr.com)


	4. Rocky Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri meet again, but it's anything but a smooth reunion. Fortunately, Viktor is known to always get what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating last week. A little advice after a week of family drama hell from a soap opera that's my real life (even though I was unwillingly dragged into it): **Never** stick your dicks into holes without protection. It leads to tears, despair and childcare lawsuits.
> 
> Now that's done and over with. I hope you'll like the new chapter and that I managed to capture Viktor's and Yuuri's characters. And thank you for the insane support! It's the light in my life at the moment.

Yuuri reined Vicchan in for the fifth time in the last ten minutes and they had been barely three streets from Yuuri’s hotel. He glared down at the niffler who didn’t look regretful in the least. No, the little jerk actually seemed annoyed with him for being forced to stay away from all the shiny jewelry people brandished all around them on the street despite it being barely seven in the morning. The only thing that consoled Yuuri just as Vicchan made another attempt at yanking him up to the nearest Madoushinai with an expensive looking gold watch was that he had managed to buy two sweet rolls with the money he had on him, both of them scarfing their own roll down like there was no tomorrow. And that he managed to get his wand back while Vicchan was too busy stuffing his greedy little face. 

But he really needed to get his bag back. 

Ayako peeked her head out of his coat pocket, trilling at him in complaint about the dizzying back and forth between him and Vicchan. “I know, tell that to him,” Yuuri grumbled and wrapped the leash around his hand one more time, his arm muscles tensing to hold the niffler back. Vicchan practically growled at him but after a last desperate attempt to face plant him into the cold, hard concrete he finally gave up and followed Yuuri’s steps in a sedate pace. 

Based on his past experience with competitions, he knew that teams usually checked out of their hotels as early as possible. Which meant that he had to hurry to catch Viktor before the man left and went back to St.Petersburg. The thought of apparating all around the vast land of Russia just to find his bag left Yuuri nauseous, sending his slowly depleted magical reserves into a riot. He needed to calm down and concentrate on the tracking charm’s pull, something that was getting harder and harder with each second he spent on agonizing over useless ‘what ifs’. He took a deep breath, then another one and another one, staring ahead and silently counting up to ten to quiet his buzzing mind. 

He could do this.

The thrum of the tracking spell resonated in his brain like the sweet vibration of a harp’s strings, coyly drawing him closer and closer to his goal.  He had no certain action plan and very much doubted that the receptionists would tell him which room Viktor was staying in, but maybe he could wait outside and catch him just as he was leaving. That could work certainly, provided he could keep Vicchan entertained long enough not to cause a ruckus. 

What Yuuri did not count on was the small mob of people already blocking off the main entrance of the hotel, buzzing and squealing with barely contained excitement. Fans. Fans with posters and banners who all wanted to get a glimpse of Viktor, to scream his name, to draw his attention. On the outskirts of the roiling mass of people, Yuuri would have no chance to catch Viktor in any way. Even if he had enough strength to cast a disillusionment charm on himself, pushing through the gathered crowd would have been near impossible. Giving up was not an option though, meaning that he had to come up with something and fast.

Or so he thought until Vicchan started crawling up the leg of the girls standing next Yuuri, his black eyes zeroed in on the poor girl’s bracelet. “Vicchan, no!” Yuuri snapped and yanked him off the girl but it was too late. The girl turned to them, but instead of a reprimand, complaint or even a smile, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. The next second she started babbling at him in what he supposed was Russian, not even caring that Yuuri did not understand a word. In a matter of seconds he found himself surrounded by the very same crowd that had been shrieking for Viktor only minutes before, and the only one who enjoyed the situation was Vicchan who was all but chuffed to be the center of everyone’s attention.

“I…” Yuuri had no idea what to say. He wished he could disappear or at least confound the people around him enough to slip away. But he was stuck. 

“You’re that boy from yesterday.” The girl with a thick Russian accent but easily understandable English seemingly just appeared by his side out of nowhere. She was smiling and acting friendly, yet Yuuri felt himself tense even more, his body coiling and ready to lash out. He swallowed around the urge to babble some nonsense and settled for a hesitant nod. “Oh, I knew it! You’re even cuter up close!” 

“What’s your name?” That came from another girl. 

“Are you Chinese?”

“Are you single?”

Those simple questions started an avalanche. Suddenly, hands were reaching for him and voices blended into a cacophony of sound that set his teeth on edge and shaved off the last dregs of his patience with rapid success. He wanted to snap at them, yell to shut up, but his throat was clogged up and his lips refused to move around the words frozen on his vocal cords. All he could do was looking around frantically, searching for an opening to make a run for it but the ring of people surrounding him was just as tight as it had been around the entrance of the hotel. And using magic was still out of question.

He was saved by the large bus with the Russian Team’s logo on its side rolling up to the curb. For a moment, everything stopped around him and he almost missed Vicchan shoving a gold necklace down his pouch, then the girl who first approached him grabbed his arm and started dragging him through the mass of bodies.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you get your dream reunion with Viktor,” she said, her expression almost fearful in its determination. “Right?” she added, louder. A booming cheer went through the crowd, making Yuuri wince and Vicchan press against his leg. He decided it would be better if he scooped the niffler up into his arms.

“Thank you?” It came out more like a question, but the girl had already turned away, her grip vice-like around Yuuri’s bicep. 

The crowd parted before them easily, only a few complaints could be heard, and Yuuri was taken back to his phone call with Phichit. Maybe he really wasn’t hated by the other fans for the mess the previous day after all. It seemed unbelievable to me, considering the intensity and size of Viktor’s fanbase, but no one had been rude to him so far, at least not the way he expected. And then he was at the front of the crowd, flanked by the still nameless girl and another three who joined them sometime between Vicchan stealing a pair of earrings off a middle aged woman and the final few steps that had been between him and the front doors of the hotel.

He turned to the girl to thank her for her kindness, his arms finally finding a secure enough hold on Vicchan to stop him from getting his paws on more shiny goods, but just then the doors opened and Yakov Feltsman stalked out, glowering at everyone. Flashes went off instantly, causing Yuuri’s stomach to drop. How could he have missed the press? Eyes widening, he took an instinctive step back only to find himself pushed forward, colliding with a tall, strong body. This time, he didn’t even have to look up to know who it belonged to.

“Sorry,” he whispered, staring at Vicchan’s stretched out body as he reached for Viktor to hold him. The little traitor.

“Oh, it’s you!” He did not expect the delighted tone or to be grabbed and yanked forward for the second time that morning. “Yuri…” Viktor added before he switched to Russian, confusing Yuuri for a second until he saw the same blond boy who had yelled at Viktor the day before. He was wearing the very same scowl and glaring daggers at Yuuri, barking back a reply before stalking after their coach and the rest of the team who only reacted with curious, furtive looks at Yuuri and Viktor. And then Yuuri found himself inside the hotel, behind closed doors and alone with Viktor Nikiforov who was looking down at him with a wide smile, his fingers squeezing Yuuri’s hand. “We have a lot to talk about, no?”

Yuuri felt himself blanch and his eyes darted guiltily down at the bag in Viktor’s hand, already betraying him before he could come up with anything believable. “Would you believe if I said no?” 

Viktor’s smile widened impossibly. “No.”

xxx_xxx

Viktor did not expect to be nearly electrified by the bubbling sensation in his veins at the sight of the man from the day before. He did not expect himself to be so bold, just grab the man and drag him back inside the hotel, away from the prying eyes, away from Yuri’s sulking scorn. At least the boy had managed to keep his mouth shut so far. As if to prove his mental point, the little tree creature poked its head out of the neckline of Viktor’s coat and then chirped eagerly when it laid its eyes on the man behind Viktor.

Brown eyes widened behind thick glasses, but Viktor left the man no time to react, dragging him towards the nearest restroom in the lobby. He wasted no time locking the door after quickly checking if anyone was inside, but pushing the man back against the neatly polished cherry wood came out of nowhere. It wasn’t like him to be so bold, so direct. Yes, he was a master of teasing and fine-honed the skill of flirting his way into getting what he wanted. He knew how to twists words into honeyed blades that got him results faster and far more effectively than blatant harshness ever could. 

But this? The  tight press of his body against the surprisingly hard lines of the cute man’s front? The careless slide of his fingertips against silken black hair? The whisper distance between his lips and the shell of the man’s ear already turning crimson? This was just not him. Except it was. Because it was definitely him who was caging this sweetly flustered strange… magician? against the door in a hotel’s restroom, daring and cocky, knowing that he had the upper-hand. Knowing that he had something the other desperately wanted even without looking at the man.

The rush of that knowledge made him almost light-headed. He wanted to possess the inexplicably enticing man and unearth every secret he was hiding behind his wide, liquid-brown eyes that were staring up at Viktor with avid wariness. Viktor licked his lips, pulling back just enough to allow the man to track the move, ridiculously pleased when the man’s gaze slipped, as if hypnotized by the flicker of seduction.

Viktor smiled and brushed his thumb against the scarlet ear closest to his hand. “Are you planning to come up with a believable tale that explains away this little one here?” he asked, quiet like he was sharing a sordid secret between lovers. The little creature chirped again and Viktor got the chance to see an almost identical one peek out from the man’s coat pocket. “A new prototype of toys perhaps?”

The man’s lips twisted, sour yet resigned, his right arm tensing as if he wanted to reach for something but the movement was aborted, a mere twitch of futility. It intrigued Viktor further. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for a response other than the inviting opening of full, dark lips. The man was enchanting without trying, drawing Viktor in effortlessly with the mysteries — hook, line, sinker. It would have been so easy to lean down and taste those parted lips, but he couldn’t be weak, couldn’t let himself fall for the seduction and unwittingly lose the man again. No, he needed to concentrate on the matter at hand and get the answers he craved.

“Are you going to say anything?” he pressed, then yanked his head back when a cold slobbery tongue swiped against his nose and instead of charming almond shaped eyes he was staring into two dark buttons. The poodle barked once, pushing his head closer aiming for Viktor’s chin. He couldn’t help but laugh and pet the little dog, scratching under his chin.  _ “Hey there,” _ he murmured, switching back to Russian like he always did with Makkachin.  _ “Aren’t you precious? Such a sweet thing for such a sweet, lovely owner. Do you love him the same he loves you? Does he treat you like a prince?” _

He peeked up through his lashes, lips curling around a tiny smirk when he saw how the man’s cheeks were becoming redder and redder with each passing moment. 

“I… I’m sorry for this,” the man said finally, his voice as soft as Viktor remembered but not weak or helpless. His English was clear and lightly accented, much less than Viktor’s own, suggesting a time spent in countries where he needed to use it extensively, but no distinctive layer of familiarity with any of the nations Viktor had met before.

“No need, this is so interesting.” He grinned, wide and blinding enough to send his fans swooning usually. “Now, tell me, what’s your name?”

The man pursed his lips for a second, a flash of sharpness sizzling through his gaze as he pulled poodle back against his chest. “Katsuki Yuuri,” he replied, frank and to the point even as he averted his gaze, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Can I call you Yuuri?” Viktor all but purred, folding his fingers over Yuuri’s hand, his fingers brushing over the poodle’s coarse fur. 

“Y-yes,” Yuuri replied, stumbling over that simple word. Such a promising reaction.

“Yuuri, will you tell me about you?” He knew he was shamelessly exploiting the man’s admiration and attraction but couldn’t help it. He needed to know, needed find the key to the mystery hiding deep in the bag at his feet. “Are you a… wizard? A mage? A sorcerer?”

Yuuri swallowed, his throat seemed to work hard on bobbing around words to keep them down. It was no use of course, not when the truth was written all over his face without saying anything. It made Viktor giddy all over to be proved correct, to learn that magic or something akin existed around him. He could feel his skin stretch almost painfully on his face and his grip tightened around Yuuri’s hand in his excitement.

“As a fan, would you like a photo?” he asked, knowing it would throw the man’s guard off enough to let Viktor throw an arm around him and pull out his phone.

“Wait!” Yuuri protested, shaking his head and he was at the other side of the rest room faster than lightning, leaving Viktor blink at him, dazed and confused. “No, I don’t want a picture.”

“Oh.” Viktor knew he had no right to feel disappointed, not when his reasons for wanting to take a picture were not as noble as he tried to convey. “I would be okay with it.”

“I’m not the best with pictures,” Yuuri argued, his eyes looking down at the poodle cuddled to his chest. The pup was busy wiggling his small body, trying his best to escape the death grip, to no avail. Yuuri was much stronger than he looked. “Sorry.”

Viktor bowed his head, giving himself a second to collect himself, before he looked up again and put on his best smile. “It’s fine! If you change your mind though, I would be more than happy to pose for a selfie with you.”

“T-thank you.” Yuuri faltered and crouched down to let the poodle down, an obvious tactic to buy himself some time. Viktor knew that he would try to come up with an excuse and then disappear as fast as possible. “Look, I appreciate that you kept my bag… safe.”

“Whatever is coming next, I’m not buying it,” Viktor cut in before Yuuri could say anything more. “I’m many things, Yuuri, but stupid is not one of them, I hope you understand. And this little one here,” he paused to help the wood creature out from under his clothes, “is proof enough that something is going on. Something beyond normal. And I want to know all about it.”

“I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken. What you are holding is just a new prototype of… children’s toys, yes toys. I’m here to sell the idea to a company and—”

“Ah, so the swarm of sparkling things that practically exploded out of your bag and broke my window last night were just another type of toys? Because you might want to work on them some more,” he taunted with a smirk, cocking an eyebrow.

“Broke your window…”

“Well, it was closed and those… toys of yours just flew through the glass. It broke.” Viktor shrugged, playing nonchalant. He would never admit to the terror he had felt when he had first seen the mass of sparkling purple and blue cloud just before the creature happily sitting in his cupped palms appeared. He wanted to keep his air of coolness in front of Yuuri no matter what, and if he needed to lie for that, then so be it. Especially when Yuuri was holding a stick in his hand and pointing it at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m really sorry, Viktor.” Yuuri did look sorry, but it didn’t stop him from still holding the stick — wand? — steadily. Like a gun. 

Was it a magical gun?

Viktor’s eyes widened and he leaned back instinctively, the back of his head colliding with the wooden pane of the door in a mocking rendition of the night before. “If you kill me, they’ll know it was you. Hundreds of people saw us come in together,” he said, valiantly ignoring the pitch of his voice. Yuuri shook his head, still looking pained. “You don’t have to do this, really. I’m just curious… and bored… and maybe a little tired. I wasn’t trying to cause any problems, so there is no need to do something you could regret later.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Yuuri said, looking Viktor in the eye. His gaze was strangely sorrowful, not helping with the panic mounting Viktor’s chest. Still, he needed to keep talking. It had managed to halt whatever Yuuri was planning to do to him so far.

“That’s good!” His laugh sounded decidedly not hysteric and there was no one who could tell him otherwise. “Then maybe put away your s—” he couldn’t finish the sentence because the poodle at Yuuri’s feet basically broke every law of physics by jumping up and snatching the stick away in one smooth move and somehow managed to make it disappear between falling to the floor in a weird crouch and landing.

“Vicchan, no!” Yuuri groaned, pushing a hand through his already tousled hair. The poodle yipped up at him, his mouth full of a strangely sharp teeth edged doggy grin. “You’re a menace.”

“I don’t know,” Viktor found himself commenting, his mouth running away from him as relief crashed over him like a tidal wave washing away an entire city, “I feel myself obliged to reward him for saving my life.”

“I wasn’t going to kill you!” Yuuri snapped, his glare turning to Viktor full of frustration. “Sorry,” he added a moment later, ruining his air of power and intriguing glimpse of dominance. “But you don’t understand. There are laws and you are a Madoushinai…”

“I feel like I should feel insulted whatever that is.”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you already know too much and now this…” Yuuri shook his head and turned back to the poodle. “Vicchan, I need the wand back. Now.”

The poodle yipped again and sat down, his tail wagging. “Maybe give me a chance?”

“That’s not how this works.”

“I don’t know,” Viktor said, taking a cautious step closer. He felt like he was trying to tame a wild animal that could tear his head off any second.  His heart was hammering in his chest and his head was spinning, but it had been ages since he felt this invigorated… this alive. He needed to preserve the moment and hold onto it until it lasted. He needed to find out more about the secrets this wonderfully mysterious man was hiding from him. “You don’t have your… wand anymore,” he tested the word out, noting the way Yuuri’s shoulders tensed immediately, confirming Viktor’s theory without saying a word. “But I still have my phone and it would take me five seconds to show the world what wonders they are missing just by taking a picture of our little tree friends here. My fans would love it. I’m sure whoever had made your precious laws will too.”

“That’s blackmail.” Yuuri had the gall to look betrayed, as if he hadn’t been about to kill or torture Viktor to silence him mere minutes ago.

“Let’s call it an exchange of our best interest.” Viktor knew he was playing with fire, but he couldn’t stop.

“I can’t just let you walk away—”

“Then you’ll have to take me with you. Wherever you’re going.”

“That’s impossible.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Viktor.”

“Oh a yes! Great! I’m looking forward to be your companion, Yuuri!” Viktor clapped his hands together, faking his confidence but pushing on nevertheless. He could not give Yuuri the chance to resist him. “You’ll have to teach me everything you know! Let’s start with these sweet darlings, here.”

Yuuri only groaned and buried his face in his hands. Viktor allowed himself to smile. He won the first round and that was enough. For now.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to join me on Tumblr: http://yuurinomahouteki.tumblr.com
> 
> Oh and I started making a cover for this story here's the wip look of Vicchan and Ayako: https://yuurinomahouteki.tumblr.com/image/156451250406


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